


Antidote

by fardareismai



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bartender AU, F/M, Sexual Content, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Time War has ended and the Doctor wants to die.  The TARDIS has other plans and takes him to the best place in the universe to remind him that he has a future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Saturday my lovely darlings! What I have for you today is the second installment of my 500-follower fic giveaway (there will be 10 of these total). Today's prompt is from whatanauthorsgottado. She requested the following:
> 
> I would like a Nine/Rose fic in which instead of working at Henrik's, Rose works as a sympathetic bartender at a bar that the Doctor walks into shortly after the end of the Time War, and he's depressed... Preferably T or even M rated. :)
> 
> I do my best... Again, I admit to having taken some liberties with the prompt, but hopefully not too terribly many of them.
> 
> My love to you all!

The Doctor opened the doors to the noise and bustle of a busy street and nearly screamed. He'd told the TARDIS to take him somewhere to die. Somewhere quiet, lonely, and a million miles from anywhere. Preferably a planet with toxic gas instead of air so that the next two regenerations would die immediately as well.

If there were a Dalek left in the multiverse, he'd have sought one of them out.

Instead she'd brought him to a busy city and a non-toxic atmosphere where his best bet was to step in front of a bus. Even then, some idiot lifeform would probably drag his carcass to whatever passed for medical help in this time and place. Then, assuming the local lifeforms weren't bi-cardial as well, he'd probably end up in a laboratory being poked at by scientists. And then, if they managed to kill him…

Well, it'd be a problem for the next bastard to figure out, but the Doctor wasn't interested in a long, accidental death by alien probe. He wanted something quick and sure that didn't involve anyone but himself and his most trusted companion: the TARDIS.

The Doctor's senses finally came to him- more slowly than they should, without the Eye to centre him, his perceptions seemed to take years longer to bring together than ever they had before, even though he knew his was still the fastest mind in the universe. The War had seen to that. After five of the smallest unit of measurement that the Doctor could still feel without it sending pain through his entire brain (which was two units longer than it had ever been) the Doctor determined that he was on Earth in the early 21st Century, in London.

"Why is it always here?" he growled at his TARDIS, and turned to re-enter her, only to find her doors shut and an electric current running through them any time he tried to touch her.

"Stop it," he said, dangerously, in their own language to his ship. "I'm not that anymore. I don't do the hero thing. I'm not going to save these  _stupid_ apes. Not now. Never again. Take me where I want to go!"

His voice had risen as he'd berated his old timeship, and people were starting to notice. They couldn't understand what he was saying (no one but the TARDIS ever would again), but some madman standing on a London street corner shouting at a 1950's police public call box was cause for some speculation, and the Doctor could feel curious eyes on him.

He clenched his hands into tight fists. He couldn't keep having this bloody conversation on the street corner, and she was unwilling to let him in to have it in private. Moreover, she seemed unwilling to let him go to a quick, painless death.

Might as well find a slower one, he thought.

Were the TARDIS not an eleven-dimensional being of time and starlight, the noise she made in his head would have been the psychic equivalent of a blown raspberry, but she was far too dignified for such a thing.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and set off for a lit street on which were a small cluster of pubs and clubs. If not toxic gas, perhaps alcohol poisoning. He didn't have to let alcohol affect him, but if he chose to, it could, and even the weak bilge of early-21st-century Earth was reasonably toxic as well as intoxicating.

Upon arriving on the corner, the Doctor frowned and looked about at his choices. From two of the clubs, the sound of thumping bass issued like a miasma. From a third came the caterwauling sounds of that most human and horrible of inventions, Karaoke. That left one relatively quiet pub and the Doctor entered the place without a second's further debate.

The place was cool and dark, with quiet patrons and quiet music piped over the speakers. The tables were mostly filled, but the people gave a sense of anonymity rather than claustrophobia. The Doctor was surprised by that, but welcomed any sense of calm he could muster. He'd not had much time for calm in a great many years.

He took a seat at the end of the gleaming bar and waited to be noticed. He didn't much mind if it took some time- it would give the Old Girl time to think about whatever it was she was irritated about and let him back in. Maybe she'd even come to terms with what he intended to do.

But she'd always been a stubborn old thing, and he thought perhaps he'd be stuck out for a time.

No matter, the blond-headed bartender was moving down the bar toward him, checking on each patron in turn before she finally turned to him, and the most peculiar expression suffused her face.

At first it was as though she were seeing a ghost- her large brown eyes went wide, her soft pink mouth opened, and the flush fled from her cheeks as she looked at him. The man she was standing in front of made a quiet inquiry, and she shook herself clear of her shock. She smiled at the man and said something non-committal, then turned back to the Doctor with a wide grin.

"You said you'd come back."

The Doctor was surprised himself to hear this. He couldn't remember having made such a promise to anyone but Romana in the final days of the war. He'd gone to find the Moment, and he had come back. Then he had destroyed everything.

But this wasn't Romana. He'd know. This was an ordinary human girl- 21 or 22, he would guess, without checking her timelines to be certain. She was… nobody.

"Did I?" he said, raising a single eyebrow.

Her grin widened, and her tongue crept into the corner of it, and he had an odd sense that he might promise things to this girl that he had never promised before.

"Two years ago, after you blew up my job and saved the world, you offered to take me away in your spaceship… you called it… oh right! The TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space, you said! And I said no." Her smile faded a bit as she said it, and the Doctor had a feeling that she regretted the decision. If he knew what she was talking about, he might regret it as well. "You said 'okay' and that you'd see me around. And then you said that if you did see me around…" She trailed off and looked at him speculatively. "I've got something for you, Doctor," she said, and his last doubts were erased by her casual use of his title, "but it'll have to wait until after my shift ends. Do you have a couple of hours?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "I reckon so."

She smiled again. "Fantastic," she said, and he liked the way the word fell on his ears. "Let me get you a drink. What's your poison?"

The Doctor considered the very small number of Earth poisons that could actually kill him but dismissed them all. It would be a hassle for him to die and regenerate there in the middle of the pub, and where would the girl even get any of them in the first place?

"Do you have ginger beer?" he asked, and for some reason she grinned again. "What?"

"Your voice," she said. "I like it. I'd nearly forgotten it, but it's… nice. God… I missed you. Didn't even realize I had until I saw you there. Blimey it's good to see you though."

"What's wrong with my voice?" he asked, listening to it himself for the first time. The regeneration had been difficult. He'd not even bothered to look in a mirror- his streak of vanity probably hadn't gone away, it had survived through eight previous bodies, he had a feeling it was inborn, but he'd had other things on his mind at the time. He'd dressed in clothes that the TARDIS had provided him and thought no more about any of it. Now that he paid some attention, however, he noticed that his accent was different. Rougher than it had ever been.

Then again, he thought that perhaps he, himself, was rougher than he'd ever been.

The girl smiled and leaned toward him as though to impart a secret. "If you're an alien," she whispered into his ear, and he nearly shivered at the touch of her breath on his skin, "how comes you sound like you're from the North?"

"I… what?" he stammered, nearly swallowing his tongue.

She laughed, a bright, bubbly, silver sound, like cool water on his overheated nerves.

"The correct answer is 'lots of planets have a North,'" she said, making a terrible attempt to ape his accent. "Thought that was right clever of you!"

It was right clever, he thought, and he'd have to remember it.

Not that it would make any sense outside of London in a very specific time period.

Not that he intended to live long enough to start cracking wise either.

Though, the thought of figuring out what it was that this strange human girl had ( _would_?) meant to him was intriguing. Hopefully the mystery would come clearer when she gave him whatever it was that she was to give back to him.

She plunked a chilled bottle of ginger beer on the counter. "Do you need a glass with that?" she asked, and nodded when he shook his head.

"Alright then, I've got to get back to work. You holler for me if you need anything though, I'll come running, Doctor." And, with a final smile, she swirled off.

The Doctor watched her go. She was a small, pretty little creature- a bit brassy, a bit bold, a bit flirtatious, with a lower-class London accent, but she seemed self-assured and surprisingly clever for all that. And she wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by him, which was interesting in its own right.

After about 20 minutes that the Doctor spent watching the blonde bartender mix and serve drinks and talk to each patron in turn (giving attention and sympathy, laughter and advice as easily as she handed out beer and liquor, and all with that sweet smile on her face) she returned to him with another ginger beer.

"You want a shot or something to mix with that?" she asked as she set the bottle down and whisked away the empty one.

"No, thanks," he said, eyeing her over the mouth of the bottle. How much did she really know about him, he wondered.

"'S your liver," she said with a shrug.

Not so much as all that then. "It's not, actually. Don't have a liver, me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah?" She was surprised but not horrified. "Suppose that makes sense. Alien and all."

She was quick, this one. He supposed she would have to have been for him to even consider asking her to come with him. He'd had some foolish companions in the past, but he didn't think this version of him would suffer a fool for long.

"Right. Alien, me. And livers are bloody inefficient, to be honest. I've a few other tricks up my sleeve. Alcohol can't get through a one of them, not unless I want it to. Ginger, on the other hand…" he trailed off and raised his eyebrows at her significantly.

She laughed, and the Doctor was surprised to realize that he'd wanted her to.

"Well you be careful. I can't drag you back to my place, and you'll want to be awake for the thing I've got to give you."

The Doctor thought she might be right. The mystery of the pretty girl at the bar was waking him up- reminding him of what he had always been.

Before the War, anyway.

The hours to the end of the girl's shift passed surprisingly quickly. The Doctor was amazed to find that the little ape was an engaging conversationalist and a natural at her chosen profession. She seemed inherently to know when a patron wanted a tease, or a flirt, or merely sympathy. And, most unusual of all, she seemed to recognize when someone didn't want to talk at all.

The Doctor was one of these last, and so, while the girl clearly wanted to ask him questions and tell him what had happened to her since she had last seen him, she did not. She delivered drinks with few words and gentle smiles and the Doctor was grateful. left alone with his thoughts.

And strange thoughts they were too. Every time she came near, there was an odd tickle in the back of his head. It wasn't memory, he was sure he'd never seen the girl before, but it wasn't the first time he'd met someone after they'd met him. It wasn't just that future memory though- that knowledge that a person was forward on your own timestream. It was something else. Something new.

Something…  _fantastic_?

He did like the way the word sounded. But he was destined to die. He'd meet the girl to keep the Earth from being eaten by Reapers, and then he'd go. Convince the TARDIS to take him to the bottom of the sea or into the vacuum of space. It would be his last act- saving the Earth one last time and solving a mystery in the bargain.

It was only fitting.

Finally, at around midnight, a young man with curly blonde hair and a cheerful smile came to relieve Rose. The Doctor fumbled in his jeans pocket, wondering if he had any money from Earth in this century when Rose waved him off.

"You're money's no good here, Doctor. Drinks were on me."

"Why?" he asked, thinking this might be a clue to the puzzle of who she was and where he was bound to meet her.

"Because you saved my life," she said with a grin, then she grabbed his hand and led him out of the shop.

It was strange, that hand-holding. It felt wonderful to the Doctor, but he couldn't figure out why. Her hands were small and soft, and just slightly sweaty in the hot mugginess of a London summer night, but his fingers wrapped around hers as though they had been made for just that.

The Doctor attempted to distract himself with talk. "You say I saved your life?" he asked.

"Well, there was the actual saving when the plastic aliens… I think you called them the Nestene Consciousness… tried to kill me, but I saved you right back, so we're square. No, it's the other bits. After you left, I realized that I was on a road to nowhere. You offered me the stars- anywhere in the universe, you said- and I turned you down, but I still had this world to explore, if I wanted. Mickey ended things with me after… well… you know." He didn't, but he nodded like he did. "And I realized that what we'd had together was good but… well… it wasn't great. It was easy. Nice. Boring. We're better as friends. He's seeing a medical student now, and he's happy. Really, really happy. Her parents think she's slumming, but she's mad for him, Martha. Honestly, I've never seen him so happy."

She wore a smile that was equal parts joy and sadness.

"So… you're not seeing anyone?" he asked, not sure why he did, but wanting desperately to know.

"Nah," she said, scrunching up her nose. "Went back for my A-levels, and that took a lot of my time. Got the job at the pub in the evenings. Got pretty good marks when I finished, and I've been thinking about going to university. Mum says I'm putting on airs and graces, but she always does. Thinks I should be cutting hair with her, never leave the Estate, stay with her until she gets old or finds someone else to take care of her."

The Doctor had an odd feeling that she was just venting everything that she'd wanted to say for a long time, but hadn't had anyone to say it to. He wondered what it was about him that made her confide.

"I finally moved out of her place. Mine's a little bitty studio, but it's my own, and that's something. Makes me feel like an adult, not living with my mum anymore. She hates it, even though I'm just a building over."

"Every bird has to leave the nest sometime," he said.

"Exactly, that's what I tell her. She doesn't care. Wants me to be a kid forever."

They were approaching a darker, poorer area of town. This one full of cement-block flats and depressing attempts at green spaces. The businesses were less affluent, and the people on the streets looked rougher. The girl seemed undisturbed, but the Doctor felt himself slip into solider mode- the one that had his eyes swiveling to be sure that no one came upon them unawares.

They came to a building that was exactly like the others but this time the girl stopped.

"This is me. Come on up, I'll make you a cup of tea, and then I'll give you what you told me to give you."

He followed her to the third floor and down to the 9th door in the row. She pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, preceding him in and flicking on the lights.

The Doctor looked around as the girl hung up her purse and jacket on a set of pegs by the door. The space was a little bit messy- there was a pile of unfolded laundry, and the bed was unmade- but it gave the overall impression of a comfortable, personal space.

"You didn't bring your leather jacket," she commented. The Doctor was surprised. He didn't have a leather jacket, but he thought there might be one in the wardrobe. Seems that he had to find it before he found her again.

"Probably too hot for it, after all. Pity. You looked a bit of all right in it. Go ahead and sit down, Doctor. I'll bring you tea in a second."

The Doctor glanced around, but there wasn't a chair available, just the unmade bed which, he found as he sat gingerly on the edge, smelled of human girl. He couldn't explain why the smell both excited and frightened him, but it did.

It seemed like no time at all before the girl was back in front of him, two mugs of tea in her hands. She passed one to him and he sniffed it. Milk and two sugars which, he discovered upon tasting it, was exactly how he liked it.

Had she made tea for him before (for her) or was this some intuitive thing, like knowing when not to force a barfly to talk?

The Doctor finished his tea in three large gulps, surprised at how soothing it was to his system. He forgot, sometimes, how important things like tea and rest could be, even for a Time Lord who should be above such things.

"Alright," he said, setting the mug down on her bedside table with a decisive clatter, "I'll need that thing I gave you now, if you don't mind."

The girl smiled. This was a new smile. One he'd never seen on her face before- not flirtatious or teasing, this was nearly predatory.

Dear Chaos, what had he given her.

"Anything you like, Doctor," she said, softly. She set her cup down on the floor, took a deep breath, and, laying her hand along his cheek, she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.

The Doctor was stunned. Not by the move itself, but by the rush of future memory- future emotion. This girl… she said she had saved his life, and she would, in a way that a virtual stranger would understand- freeing him from danger and enemies- but she was also well on her way to saving his soul.

What was special about her, he couldn't quite put his finger on, but she was. She tasted of the future and time and starlight, and she'd never even been to the stars. Not yet.

But by Rassilon,  _he_  would take her.

After a moment, the girl began to pull away from his mouth and the Doctor realized that he had been passive through the entire kiss. He did not let her get away from him, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her across his lap to kiss again and again, teasing her mouth open with his tongue and seeking out the taste of eternity in her.

Her hands found the back of his neck, her warm fingertips like fire against his cooler skin. Without conscious thought, his own hands trailed under her jumper top to find the soft skin of her belly beneath.

With another part of the Doctor's massive brain, he wondered where the instincts were coming from that led him forward. He'd never done this with a human before, but he seemed to know the places that would please her.

The only conclusion that he could reach was that in his personal future, he knew this girl and every inch of her body was his to touch and give pleasure to. It was future memory, not past instinct, that gave him his roadmap to her.

Up from her belly he found her breasts cruelly imprisoned in a brassiere of some silky material that felt nice against his fingers, though not near so nice as the warm velvet of her skin when his fingers made their way under the fabric. Her nipples lept to his touch, and he wondered if she was remembering the future as well.

She gasped into his ear as he took on nipple and rolled it between his fingertips. At some point, without his notice, his lips had trailed off of hers and down her jaw, onto her neck, putting her mouth right at his ear to which she was doing something deliciously indecent with her tongue.

He pulled away for an instant and tugged her jumper off of her, leaving her in jeans and her bra, one cup of which was shoved beneath her pale, pink-tipped breast.

The girl grinned and unhooked the bra for him then raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fair's fair, Doctor. Kit off, then."

The Doctor felt his face break into an expression that he didn't think he'd made in years. He was smiling at her, certain that the expression made him look a bit mad (it always had), but he saw her eyes soften as she smiled back.

"You have a beautiful smile, Doctor."

He shook his head. "You're beautiful."

Before she could say more, he tugged his jumper off over his head and, in a move too fast for the girl to follow, he had her flipped over onto the bed, head on the pillows and himself kneeling between her legs.

"Blimey!" she said in surprise. Then her eyes took on a wicked mischievousness and she said "you think you're so impressive."

"I  _am_ so impressive," he growled, leaning down and kissing her navel in a way that made her gasp and moan.

He moved down her body to her feet where she was wearing a pair of pink Converse trainers. He began to unlace them and gently removed them and her socks, revealing a pair of small, pink-nailed feet. He place a kiss on each instep, then moved up to deal with her jeans.

They were tight over her hips, as was common fashion for the time, but the Doctor had no trouble in unbuttoning them and drawing them down over her legs, making sure to catch her knickers and bring them down along with the trousers.

He tossed the jeans aside and leaned back to kneel on his feet, looking at her. She was glorious- pale gold and pink. Dark and light. Delicate beauty and strength of passion.

And the smell of her arousal was making his animal brain light up with a thousand instincts. He wanted her, had to have her, wanted to take her, but had to please her.

"Quid pro quo, Doctor," she reminded him, with a lazy smile. "Let's see what you're packing."

A flash of gold seemed to fill the Doctor's mind, and a wolf's howl. In any other situation, he might have stopped to examine the situation- he knew it was his future somehow, but had no idea what it meant yet- but then and there, nothing could distract him.

He kicked out of his boots and shoved down his jeans and pants in a go, then stood before her, waiting for her approval.

She looked him over for so long that the Doctor began to feel nervous. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"Dunno, guess I expected you to look a bit more… alien I suppose. If you were a human bloke, you'd be basically ideal, but I dunno what an alien is supposed to look like. This is a first for me."

The Doctor nearly smiled, but he hid it away, preferring to tease. He knelt on the end of the bed, between her feet.

"Maybe I don't know what your type of alien is supposed to look like either," he said, innocently.

"Oh! So you've never…"

"Not with a human, no," he interrupted.

"Oh well… I guess I can help you out if you need," she offered, uncertainly.

The Doctor began brushing fingertips across her legs, moving inexorably upward. He was following the instincts of his future still, but reveling in the sensations of his present. She was warm and velvet- tiny, fine hairs rising to his touch as he brushed his hands over her, finding secret places that made her heart rate spike and her breath come short.

"Think I'll just explore myself, thanks," he said, finally grinning.

Before she could say more, he descended. His mouth fixed on one pink nipple, and his right hand found her center in an instantaneous move. She let out a sound that was nearly a scream, and he felt her inner muscles convulse around his hand.

"Good girl," he murmured, and realized that it was Gallifreyan that he spoke. "That's my girl, my precious thing."

He massaged her with his fingers and adjusted the positioning of his hand so that he rubbed against her in a way that made her give a low, keening moan.

He kept it up, moving and stroking and kissing and licking until she suddenly cried out again, every muscle clenched tight as a bowstring for five slow human heartbeats, and then she went limp beneath his hands.

"My god," she murmured after a long moment where the Doctor simply watched her. "That was…"

"Fantastic?" he asked, trying out the word for himself.

"Fantastic," she agreed with a grin. She pulled him toward her for a long, slow kiss and, without his realizing, he found himself laid across her, stomach-to-stomach, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip.

"Please, Doctor," she murmured as the tip of him barely brushed the wetness at the top of her thighs. "Please."

Some future insight told him that he would never learn to deny that plea.

He entered her slowly- not for her sake, she was slick and warm and welcoming, but for his- inch by inch until he found himself seated in her, warm, safe, and home.

"Dear God," he murmured against the side of her neck.

"Yes, Doctor," she said.

He began to move. Slowly at first, finding a rhythm that he could maintain for her. She moved beneath him, and he found that he could anticipate her movements, keep her steady, keep himself steady with her. She dragged her fingernails over his shoulders and through his hair and whispered filthy suggestions to him until, finally, he snapped.

He rode her ruthlessly, and she begged him for more. He poured the emptiness of his dead people, his fury at their hubris, his loss, and his desire to die into her, seeking oblivion in her body. When she cried out in ecstasy, he did as well, emptying everything into this one, small, incredible human, and finding that she was more than equal to it.

When they lay together after, she curled against him like a cat.

"I'm so glad you came back, Doctor."

"Yeah," he said, quietly. "Me too."

~?~?~?~?~

He let her fall into the deep stage of her sleep cycle before he extricated himself from her arms and re-dressed.

He let himself out of her flat, locking the flimsy door behind himself. He frowned- someone could kick the door in without hardly exerting themselves. She wasn't safe behind that door, not really.

He thought of doors that had held back the assembled hordes of Genghis Kahn more than once. She'd be safe there.

He made off down the street. It was the wee hours, and no one was out that wasn't looking for trouble, but the Doctor knew that anyone who met him in the dark tonight would find danger waiting for him.

The TARDIS was where he had left her, on the corner down from the girl's pub. Her doors were electricity-free now, and she sang gently to him as he queried the timelines looking for what he needed.

A long, dyed-blonde hair that he had plucked on his way out the door, fed to the computer and provided him everything he needed.

Nestene Consciousness. 2005. Henrick's Department Store.

And his destiny awaiting him.

~?~?~?~?~

He'd nearly forgotten to ask for her name. He'd finally met her for the first time (for her) and he'd nearly forgotten.

Rose.

Of course she was. Now… to find her again.

Couldn't come off too strong though, which was why he'd left her the arm. He'd go looking for that in the morning. She could use some sleep after the day she'd had.

He'd take the shortcut though.

~?~?~?~?~

Gods but he was daft-looking. She'd never called him handsome,  _per se_ , but she'd seemed pleased enough with how he looked.

Honestly though… the ears!

But her name was Rose Tyler, and the name tasted like hope on his tongue.

He'd told her to forget him for the second time, and he knew she wouldn't. There were scratches on his back and a bite mark above his left nipple that assured him that she would not forget him.

~?~?~?~?~

"The inside's bigger than the outside?"

"Yes." The TARDIS herself was helping the transition. From the moment that Rose Tyler had entered the ship, she'd been sent waves of psychic reassurance. The Old Girl didn't always do that. She sometimes took great joy in terrifying new companions, but she seemed to like Rose, for some reason.

"It's alien."

"Yeah." She'd been matter-of-fact about it before… after. Would it frighten her now?

"Are you alien?"

"Yeah. That okay?"

"Yeah."

~?~?~?~?~

"Lots of planets have a North!"

She was younger now. Dating some bloke named Ricky or Mickey- she'd mentioned him, that she wasn't with him anymore. He tried not to be jealous, but he could remember the way she'd looked laying beside him in her bed and couldn't seem to help himself.

Jealousy was enough to make him miss the obvious. But she didn't.

"Fantastic!"

~?~?~?~?~

She swung down to save him, an avenging angel- beautiful and terrible, and he knew he would never be able to leave her behind.

~?~?~?~?~

"You could stay here, fill your life with work and food and sleep, or you could go anywhere."

"Is it always this dangerous?"

"Yeah."

He knew what she would say, and he knew what he had to do.

"Yeah, I can't. I've er, I've got to go and find my mum and someone's got to look after this stupid lump, so…"

"Okay, see you around."

He turned, as if to go back into his ship, then looked around again at her, as though an idea had just occurred to him.

"When you see me again, would you mind giving me something?"

This time, when he kissed her, it was she who was too surprised to move for a few seconds. He stopped the kiss before she could do more than sigh and move into him. He had a date with her in 2007.

"So long, Rose Tyler."

~?~?~?~?~

He returned to her flat with coffee. She was still asleep, so he set the paper cups down, stripped his jeans off and returned to her bed where she wrapped herself around him without waking.

He stayed with her there until she began to stir.

"'Morning," she grumbled, stretching against him, then collapsing back on his chest.

"Morning," he answered. "I brought coffee."

"You're a darling, you are," she said, but didn't stir to get off of him, just stayed slumped over his chest.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, that I think I forgot the first time around. You know my ship? The one that's not just a London Hopper? I don't think I mentioned that she also travels in time…"


End file.
